Poem February 12, 1977 Issue

I CAN STOP BEING SWUNG

Marguerite McCulley Armstrong

Asleep,
sometimes I ride the pendulum.
Striking the material imitation severely,
returning briefly to glimpse Spirit's likeness,
I bounce back to matter's anti-identity,
until, bruised,
I awake.

Then I plant my total self in
changeless good,
the immovable absolute,
the unwavering, unvarying
I AM THAT I AM,
and know I've always belonged to
the faithworthy One,
locked in to incontestable Truth.
Soon I bloom with this indisputable certainty.

Measureless Being arrests the pendulum's pretense.

Marguerite McCulley Armstrong

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